


the ones who bloom in the bitter snow

by shutupfiona



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: F/M, i love them too much not to write about them, so yay hadestown for getting me back into writing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23044357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupfiona/pseuds/shutupfiona
Summary: "how long have we been married?" "since the world began."a collection of stories, about one of the oldest loves there is.(or maybe just one when i forget this exists in a week)
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Hadestown)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	the ones who bloom in the bitter snow

**Author's Note:**

> be kind to me, i haven't written anything in forever.
> 
> this little part of wait for me (reprise) is one of the reasons this song is within my top 3 songs from the musical. i love imagining this interaction between Hades and Persephone, because it feels so... simple in something that is so complicated. it's hopeful. 
> 
> hope you enjoy

“Think they’ll make it?”

The words slipped out of her lips, almost a whisper. She was looking down, from the balcony high up in the old building her husband has erected as his office. Down onto the workers, the shades who look so very much alive for souls lost to the Underworld, down onto the light of hope shining over the two young lovers. Persephone hadn’t really grasped what happened yet. It was hard changing ways after centuries. Hard looking at Hadestown and imagine the Underworld she called home once and try to remember that feeling again. Try and find them in this world again, in this lifetime, in this story.

She has missed feeling his eyes on her. His piercing gaze, who used to be so tender, so soft on her and only her, so loving. Whenever she’d come down these days, his eyes would be dark, obscured with the color of dread, doubt and resent. He hated seeing her leave, hated being alone again after sharing the warmth of a bed with her. But most of all, he was terrified she’d never come back. Despite having had this argument more than once, Hades could not get it in his head that what Persephone loved above all else, above her mother, above the fields, above the sun, was him. In the early days, she had tried to prove it. But spring would always come too soon for him to understand, too soon for her to show her dedication to their marriage, and little by little, the flowers and the breeze of the warmer days had worn down their love story.

“I don’t know.” His eyes left her when she turned her head to him, staring at the pavement down below instead. Head held high like the mighty king he is, as if what happened had not changed something in him. Orpheus had shifted the world of the God of the Dead, but gods above, Persephone knew he would not let it show. His voice trembled as it spoke, and she noticed. She liked to believe he had hope for them, too.

Her lips curled in a small smile. One full of weirdly intertwined pride and tenderness. The stubborn god had gone against all odds and had let Orpheus and Eurydice have another shot; and she knew, he was not one to believe in second chances, not since he built this hell hole of a factory.

She remembered him knee deep in the Lethe moving souls to their new beginning. She remembered the soft talk he’d have with shades, back when he still had respect for them. A talk about where to go from here. Some would stay, go where they belonged in the afterlife that the Underworld could give them. Most asked to start over. Forget and rebuild. It was a ritual she liked seeing. Mortals had not much going for them, so giving them a few shots at life seemed… right. And Hades was good at his role. He was stern and cold and strict, rigid like the bark and hard like the stone, but he was… understanding. He listened like no other.

“Hades…” he turned his face back to hers. After all these years, she could still get lost in his eyes, in his traits. “you let them go.” That’s enough, she thought, enough for him. She saw the cup half full here.

“I let them try.” He corrected softly, as if that made a difference to her out of everyone. In his eyes, something lit up. Hope, she thought. If they try and get it right, maybe they can too. Maybe they can fix this, fix them. Maybe they can find their rhythm again.

Slowly, her hand came to cover his, clasped around the bannister, their eyes still linked. She felt the tension in his fingers fade away at her touch, as if it could fix him entirely. She smiled. Again, his eyes lit up with the same spark, and her belly was filled with butterflies. Oh, how she loved him, how she missed him.

“How about you and I?” her voice was a whisper, and she knew her eyes were filling with water. They were given a second chance. Gods don’t get second chances. They needed to take it. The thought of giving up on him, on them… she couldn’t even fathom it. “Are we gonna try again?”

He looked away, eyes up towards the wall, his breathing heavier. Her heart sunk to her stomach. She thought she saw he wanted this as bad as she did back when they danced. Maybe she had read him wrong. Maybe she didn’t know him anymore. Maybe she’d go back up and never come down again because he didn’t want her— The hand under hers moved to grasp it. He squeezed her hand, softly, tenderness across his face as he turned his gaze back to her. “It’s almost spring,” and she could see in his eyes the longing and the love and everything that had made her fall in love so deeply with him. He was letting her go up on time, as a gesture of reconciliation, as an effort. She knew it asked a lot out of him. “we’ll try again next fall.” And right then, with another squeeze of her hand, she knew that was a promise. A promise that, for her, he would change. He would try.

“Wait for me.” It was not a question, but a demand, because she needed him to wait. She needed him to wait for summer to be done and fall to be on their doorstep, she needed him to wait so she could pick up the pieces of herself scattered across the fields and slowly rebuild herself, as his queen. His wife. His lover. Her thumb slowly drew circles over the back of his hand. He had to trust her. His promise was to change and try, hers would be to always come back. Her home was with him, and whatever time it took for him to understand that, she’d give him.

“I will.” He raised her hand to his lips, and delicately dropped a kiss on her skin. A shiver flew through her body, the butterflies go crazy and then, everything was calm.

The storm was over. It was time for spring.


End file.
